


of worse or of better

by westwind



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, background kirk/spock but not a significant amount, far too many romantic cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwind/pseuds/westwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Bones's relationship is never easy. Or, five significant moments between the two in the context of the beds they've shared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of worse or of better

**Exhibit A**

The first time Jim and Bones end up in bed together, it’s because Starfleet is completely up-to-date with all the shiny new technology but can’t even procure a decent heater. Jim is perfectly aware that the higher-ups in the Academy have better things to do than sit around plotting ways to make cadets miserable via malfunctioning heating, but it’s fucking cold in the dorm and it’s actually, really _snowing_ outside. Bones spent all day waddling around like a penguin encased in ten layers of sweaters and an adorable striped hat.

Bones, who is currently shivering in the bed across the room. One of the things Jim has noticed about him is that the man’s always absolutely freezing. He’ll grab hold of Bones’ arm to steer and/or manhandle him in a different direction and then look down to double-check that Bones isn’t coated in a thin layer of frost. If Bones’ foot happens to brush Jim’s leg while they’re curled up on opposite ends of the couch studying, it’s greeted with a startled yelp and an answering, “Sorry, kid.” Basically, his friend’s circulation is crap and there’s a decent chance he might actually wake up to find Bones encased in ice.

And so Jim Kirk begins his tactical maneuver. 

“Bones. Hey, Bones.” A pause. “I know you’re awake, I can hear your teeth chattering.” 

Something that sounds a lot like a growl emanates from the mass of blankets across the room. “Why the hell are you whispering? We’re not twelve-year-old girls at a slumber party.” 

“Bones, c’mere,” Jim says at a slightly louder volume. “You’re shivering and it’s keeping me awake.” 

“So this is how you attempt to coerce me into bed with you?” The room is dark except for twin strips of moonlight spilling out of the windows and onto the floor, but Jim can visualize Bones’ furrowed eyebrows and slight scowl perfectly.

He makes an indignant noise because sure, he’s thought about it, but his intentions are completely innocent at the moment. “Please,” Jim scoffs. “If my flirtation techniques were this pathetic, I’d be ashamed. I just don’t want you to be miserable all night.” 

“I’m fine,” Bones huffs.

If Jim told his friend that he himself was chilly, Bones would be there in a moment, bitching all the while, and that’s what decides him. Bones patches him up after fights and looks after him when he makes terrible decisions and then won’t let Jim do anything for him in return. It’s fucking frustrating, actually.

The next phase of the plan involves Jim unrolling himself from his warm cocoon of blankets and stealthily making his way across the room. It’s only spoiled slightly when he stubs his toe on Bones’s nightstand and flops onto the bed, landing on something that’s probably his friend’s arm. 

“What the fuck, Jim?”

They spend the next minute or so engaged in a wrestling match in which Jim attempts to worm his way under the covers and Bones makes a halfhearted effort to shove him off the side. Predictably, Jim ends up with possession of more than half of the small bed and a smug feeling of accomplishment. Bones pushes at his shoulder resignedly. 

“If you’re going to sleep here, at least move over a bit,” he says.

Jim complies. “See, isn’t it warmer now?” he mumbles into the pillow.

“Sure. You’re like a miniature furnace or something, kid. Now shut up so I c’n get some sleep.” 

The line of Bones’s body that’s pressed up against him is as cold as a corpse but warming quickly, and Jim can feel his eyelids getting heavy. He falls asleep listening to his friend’s breathing, constant and steady like waves breaking on a beach.

**Exhibit B**

After the Narada incident, after the fear diffuses from the air and after Leonard has a chance to wash the blood off his hands, he and Jim finally have time to be together. Or, more accurately, Leonard practically drags Jim off the bridge and forces him to eat and shower before the two collapse on a bed in an unoccupied room. They have the big, empty CMO’s quarters to go to, but stepping through the doorway makes Leonard feel like he’s trespassing. 

Jim’s still vibrating with a frenetic energy that makes his blue eyes spark with electricity. Leonard’s go-to method to get him to relax when he’s been awake for days on a workaholic bender is to just fuck it out of him, but he’s too exhausted to even lift up his head, and right now, that isn’t what they both need. And so he burrows into a nest of blankets and pulls Jim close to his chest, keeping a tight grip even when he tries to wriggle away.

“I thought you said you didn’t do cuddling, Bones,” Jim says delightedly.

“I don’t,” Leonard grumbles. “This isn’t cuddling. You can’t prove anything.”

Apparently, this is Jim’s okay to wind himself around Leonard like an octopus, tangling their limbs like he wants to bind them together on a molecular level. Leonard rubs his hand up and down Jim’s back in an almost unconscious motion, and when Jim hums happily in response, Leonard can feel the vibration spreading throughout his whole body.

The exhaustion that’s settled in Leonard’s bones over the past few days is trying to pull him under, but there’s something that just won’t let him sleep. Jim opens his eyes to look at him inquisitively when he releases a heavy sigh.

“Damned ship’s engines are so _loud_ ,” he complains.

“Seriously?” Jim yawns. “I knew you were fussy about falling asleep, but you can barely hear ‘em. Just wait a few minutes and my snoring’ll cover it up.”

“Very funny,” Leonard mutters into Jim’s hair. “It’s just hard to drift off with the constant reminder that I’m being propelled through space in a tin can.”

“I think it’s nice. Like a heartbeat.” Jim is silent for a moment, then wriggles until Leonard’s head is resting against his chest. The hum of the warp core still hangs in the air, but it’s overlaid with the steady pulse of Jim’s heart. “There. ‘S that better?”

If he wasn’t so tired, Leonard would probably feel ridiculous, but instead there’s a warmth filling his core that makes a smile curl across his face even as he slips into sleep. He may be far away from Earth, but here, he’s home. 

**Exhibit C**

The day after he wakes up in the Starfleet hospital, Jim drifts in and out of consciousness, never quite managing to fall asleep because he’s afraid that if he closes his eyes, the blackness will take him back and he won’t return again. In his more lucid moments, he looks for Bones. He needs one spot of normalcy among the madness that has been the past few days, needs his anchor to keep him steady, but he hasn’t seen Bones since his conversation with Spock. It’s not until orange evening light is drifting through the window that Jim surfaces from his daze to find Bones slouched in a chair beside the bed.

Jim doesn’t want to wake Bones—he can picture perfectly well the sleepless nights that he kept vigil in that chair, monitoring Jim’s vitals and waiting for any sign that the serum might have worked. So Jim watches Bones in the fading sunlight, matches his breathing to the steady rise and fall of his chest and traces the fall of his hair with his eyes. Jokes about how much of an old man Bones is have always been an integral part of their banter, but it’s only now that he really _looks_ old, like the events of the past week have added years of worry to weigh down his shoulders. Jim has almost drifted off to sleep again despite the fear that waits on the other side of consciousness when he sees Bones’s eyes blink open.

A cascade of emotions crashes across Bones’s face before he seems to shut down, and Jim is suddenly almost afraid because this is the first time in five years that he hasn’t been able to read his best friend. “Hey,” he says, flashing a small smile before the silence can become too brittle. “How’re you holding up?”

Bones barks out a harsh laugh, scrubbing his hand across his face. “ _You’re_ asking _me_ how I’m doing?”

“Well, yeah. I’m fine now. Good as new.” Jim injects his voice with as much feigned enthusiasm as he can. Bones, of course, immediately sees right past his bullshit.

“Like hell you’re fine,” Bones grumbles. “You arrived in sickbay in a fucking body bag.” His words pick up speed as he talks. “Nobody even told me you were dying—the first I knew of it was when I saw your body. You think next time you’re planning on getting killed, you could at least tell me first?”

The words hit Jim like physical blows. He doesn’t say anything, but Bones must see something in his face, because he breathes, “I’m sorry. It’s just hard, always worrying about what ridiculous stunt you’re gonna pull next. I never even know whether or not you’re coming back,” he finishes, his voice hoarse.

“I’ll try harder to keep myself safe, I promise. I always come back to you, right?” Jim says earnestly. The moment the words leave his mouth, he knows they are a lie—the next time any of his crew, his family, are in danger, he’ll throw himself on the line the same as any of the other times. He knows his life is insignificant compared to those of the people he’s responsible for every day.

Bones’s expression becomes carefully neutral again and he shifts as if to get up, but Jim lays a weak hand on his arm to stop him. “Could you maybe stay?” he asks, looking at him imploringly. Maybe with Bones watching over him, he’ll finally be able to get some decent sleep.

“Sure,” Bones sighs. “But move over, kid. I’m not spending another night in this damned chair.”

Jim obligingly shifts to one side, and Bones’s warm weight settles onto the cramped hospital bed. Sighing softly, Jim molds himself to the shape of Bones’s body and buries his face in his neck. Bones brings one hand up to caress Jim’s hair in a comfortingly familiar motion.

“Are we okay?” Jim mumbles into Bones’s jawline. He’s asleep before he can hear the answer. 

**Exhibit D**

Leonard’s day starts badly enough when he’s dragged along on yet another away mission and arrives on the surface of the planet with the beginnings of a massive headache that can definitely be directly correlated to having his atoms scrambled up in the transporter. It gets worse when they actually meet the race they’re meant to be negotiating with.

The Talyans are a peaceful, friendly species that wish to join the Federation for protection from their more antagonistic neighbors. _Very_ friendly, in fact. Apparently, they brush their whiskers against one another as a sign of greeting, and Leonard soon feels like he’s being attacked by several large cats. This, he can deal with—his mama didn’t teacher him manners for nothing. Things actually start to get complicated once they’re being seated around the negotiating table. 

One Taylan takes hold of both Jim and Spock’s arms, saying, “Captain, you will sit beside your soul-bond, yes?” 

Leonard furrows his eyebrows, glancing towards Nyota to see what she makes of the term. Talyans form complex social bonds that can’t always necessarily be conveyed through translations to Standard—maybe it has something to do with the two being First Officer and Captain?

Nyota says something in the Talyans’ language, then, “Soul-bond. A relationship that runs deeper than all other ties.” She appears calm and unruffled, but Leonard’s spent enough time around her to know when she’s well and truly pissed.

“Yes, soul-bond,” the Talyan standing beside Jim and Spock affirms helpfully. “Like those two individuals.” He gestures to Chekov and Sulu, who both immediately display identical guilty looks. Leonard doesn’t know who they’re trying to fool—their relationship is the worst-kept secret on the Enterprise.

Negotiations flow by smoothly, but it’s all Leonard can do not to bolt from the room and lock himself in his quarters to drown himself in whiskey. They adjourn for the night, and before he can take two steps towards Jim that damned Taylan guides a stony-faced Spock and Jim into a room while Leonard is sent to his own lonely accommodations.

He curls into the big, lonely bed, feeling a hole opening up in him that hasn’t been there since his and Jocelyn’s divorce. He’s almost managed to sink into sleep when the door opens and closes quietly and he feels a weight settle on one end of the mattress.

“Bones?” Jim asks. Leonard can feel him groping around in the darkness, so he inches further away. “Sorry about what happened back there. I just managed to sneak away from a night of awkwardly lying next to Spock.”

“You sure there wouldn’t be anything else happening between you and Spock?” Leonard growls, not caring how juvenile it sounds. 

“Seriously, Bones? You’re jealous?” Jim’s voice has a teasing lilt to it. 

“Christ, Jim,” Leonard grinds out. He rolls to face him, keeping a careful distance between them. “Talyans know how to judge the feelings between people. And even if they couldn’t, I can see perfectly well for myself. You love him.”

Jim reaches out to grasp Leonard’s hand, and he lets him, for a moment. “Bones, Bones, Bones,” he murmurs. “I love _you._ And I love him, too. Can’t I feel both?”

Leonard wrenches violently away. In his mind, he’s back beside Jocelyn in a cold bed with too much space between them while he tears his heart out for her and she feels nothing. “No,” he says vehemently. “I already made my mistakes the first time around. I’m not sticking around to get my heart broken again. Get the fuck out.”

Jim makes a broken choking noise. The floorboards creak as he stands, and Leonard is left alone again. 

**Exhibit E**

Jim is out in space when Joanna comms him with the news. “He’s not saying it, but I think he’d really like to see you,” she finishes. “I would hurry, though.” Her voice breaks slightly as they say their goodbyes.

Jim’s hands are shaking so hard that he can barely manage to press the button to end the call. Bones, his (once) best friend, has been dying for the past year, and he hasn’t even bothered to inform him. Xenopolycythemia, Joanna had said. No known cure.

The rest of the day is spent contacting the higher-ups of Starfleet, calling in every favor he’s ever been owed. The Enterprise is due to arrive back on Earth in two months, but that’s too much _time._ Finally, finally, he cobbles together an arrangement that will allow him to visit Bones in two weeks. He lays his head on his desk, feeling older than he ever has. 

\--

Jim arrives at Bones’s small apartment near Starfleet medical just as the sun is setting, casting shadows inside the doorway that fuel the apprehension curling in the pit of his stomach. This is ridiculous—he’s been here so many times while on shore leave, after Bones left the Enterprise for a ground posting. And yet Jim fucking Kirk can’t even press his finger to the doorbell.

He rings the doorbell. _So there._ A pause, and then Bones’s voice, small and ragged, filters through the speaker. “Jim? What’re you doing here?”

“Hey, Bones.” Jim tries for levity, which immediately falls flat. “Could you let me in?”

The door unlocks with a heavy click, and Jim steps inside. He doesn’t find Bones until he looks into the bedroom and sees him lying under a blanket, his eyes half-closed. Jim hovers on the threshold. 

“Jesus, Bones, you look like we should get you to the hospital,” he says. Bones looks like he’s made of tissue paper, like he would tear with the slightest touch. His chest rises and falls in small, shallow movements.

“I think I’ve spent enough time in Starfleet medical to last a lifetime,” Bones replies, opening his eyes to stare balefully at Jim. “Just because I’m a doctor doesn’t mean I like the place enough to die there.”

Bones is acting way too normal. This whole situation is way more casual than it should be. “I saw you six months ago and you didn’t say a thing!” Jim bursts out. “You really think you can get away with not telling any of your friends that you’re fucking dying of a terminal disease?”

“Maybe I have my pride, Jim. Maybe I didn’t want everyone to see me like this.” Bones releases the words like a quiet sigh.

Jim strides across the room, kneels beside the bed so that he can be closer to Bones. “What about me?” Jim says, not caring if it sounds selfish. “What am I supposed to do without you, Bones?” He is absolutely not going to cry. 

“I think you’ve been getting on perfectly fine without me,” Bones replies tonelessly. His face is closing down like someone’s pulled the shutters over his eyes. 

“Hey. You were the one who left.” Seven years, and they’ve never had this argument. They’ve chatted about trivial things, wandered the old bars they used to haunt during their Academy days, and locked this away inside themselves. Now is as good a time as any other, Jim thinks.

Bones looks like he’s fighting with himself. “Do you know why I left, Jim?”

Jim waits.

“Because I was too damned afraid. You were the only thing keeping me sane surrounded by all that blackness, and when I thought you were slipping away, I decided to cut my losses and leave. I was too scared of facing the stars without you.”

“You know I wouldn’t leave you,” Jim says quietly. “I’m staying right here.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait much longer.” Bones replies. The words send a shiver down Jim’s spine, but Bones's voice seems resigned, almost peaceful.

They talk quietly as shadows gather around the bedroom, until Bones’s voice dwindles to nearly a whisper and Jim’s legs ache from kneeling by his side. “Jim,” Bones says haltingly, “d’you think one last time—”

“Of course,” Jim replies. All is silent as he crawls into the big bed. Bones lets out a sigh that seems to carry years of hurt and worry, and Jim shifts closer until he can feel him breathing. He stays awake until the breaths run out and Bones lies still by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [The Bed Song by Amanda Palmer](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sW4dwXXX7Q) and [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/323105) gorgeous, incredible Sherlock fic.


End file.
